Soul Music: Staring Down the Blade of a Zanpakuto
by Niji Hitomi Kabra
Summary: Part 1. During the months when Ichigo can't see the Shinigami, what happens between Renji and Byakuya? Why are Renji's arms wrapped in bandages when they return? Why doesn't Byakuya wear the kenseikan anymore? Could it have something to do with the look of pain in their eyes? And why is Rukia suddenly allowed to wear symbols of her nobility? M for Yaoi, violence, and cutting.
1. Chapter 1

The sound of stone on metal, scraping and rhythmic. Calloused hands, tanned and scarred by years upon years of work moved over the blade with the whetstone in a mindless pattern. Endlessly repeating, stroke after stroke, honing the edge of the blade to the point of being able to split hairs. Somewhere in the distance a bell rang, clear and bright, interrupting the rhythm as those fingers gripped the stone just a bit tighter. As the echoes of the bell ended, the scraping began again.

He knew it was going to turn out like this. Going into it he'd known what was expected of him. It didn't matter. None of it did. He supposed that maybe they'd have had a chance. They could've fought. Could've demanded that their bond be acknowledged, but he should have remembered that it never turns out the way it is in fantasy.

Setting the stone down, he looked out across the training grounds, daring the sun to drive him inside like everyone else. He didn't sheathe his sword, leaving the gleaming metal out to enjoy the breeze. The spirit appreciated it. At the subtle pressure of the spirit he swiped his now empty hand across it, drawing the black and silver fangs out. The spirit made another noise of appreciation. He turned his eyes to it and ran his thumb along the largest fang. A small slice appeared in the pad, and he nodded.

He stood, taking a deep breath, and let his feet settle him into the first of a series of violent, yet graceful, katas. One set in the demanding sun forced him to stop and remove his kosode. He never wore the white shitagi if he could get away with it. This left him bare from the waist up, which, truly, was more comfortable to him than practicing in all of those layers. Probably some edge left over from his time in the Eleventh. He set the black over shirt off to the side, folded neatly because this wasn't the Eleventh, this was the Sixth, and the rules were different here.

Suddenly he glared at the neatly folded fabric, and pulled an extremely Eleventh-style move. He tossed the offensive over shirt up into the air and growled as loud as he could, "Howl, Zabimaru!" With a quick flick of his wrist the fangs of the blade reached out to shred the garment before it could land in the dirt.

The tatters fell, listing on the breeze from his swing when the blade retracted. One piece in particular caught his eye, a rounded former pocket, where, he knew, within was a small box. In that box was a trinket, a single gleaming blade in the shape of a sakura petal. It was strung on a cord as black as the lines that decorated his torso, and his eyes tracked the box as it hit the dirt, bounced out of the pocket and sprung open to reveal its treasure.

His ebony adored eyebrows drew together, darkening an already dark face. Without thought he brought the whip-like blade around again, this time aiming for the box itself. The metal no longer shimmered pink in the sunshine, and that was all the proof he needed. It was over, and he'd been left behind. Again. So when the fang of his soul slayer caught the cord, flinging the petal into the air again, he snarled at the glint of sunlight on it. He swung to slice the offensive trinket but in doing so caught it between fangs, where one was missing—the tip deliberately broken off.

The deepest level of commitment a Shinigami could make, a piece of one's zanpakuto, and he'd done it gladly. The sight made his resolve and anger burn away. Zabimaru dissolved into its sealed katana and Renji hit his knees one hand out to grasp the precious petal. The razor sharp edge dug into his palm but he didn't care.

He sat back onto his heels and tried to reign in the war of emotion threatening to steal the last of his pride. In doing so he clenched his fist around the petal, vaguely aware of the beginnings of blood dripping into the dirt between his fingers. The physical pain brought a rock in the hurricane, and he tightened his hand to make it more obvious.

His blood ran in streams down the cracks of his fist and that pain, added to the chaos in his head, broke the last thread of his pride. He fell forward onto his free hand, clutching his bleeding fist to his bare chest without bothering about the blood or removing the deadly charm dug into his palm. He hung his head, tears joining the blood on the ground. His teeth bare, and his shoulders shaking, he poured everything he had into that silently growing pool.

The nue was somewhere off to the side, but for once he didn't care. There could have been thousands of the tiny, deadly petals for all that he felt. There should have been. There had been once, and now, more than he ever had for as long as he could remember, he wished there were.

Somewhere in the distance people laughed. Somewhere they held each other and danced, happily to the sound of some talented musician. People ate and drank and made merry. There was a blushing, beautiful woman, her kimono just too loose to be traditional, the obi just wide enough to cover her entire midsection. Next to her was a tall, stoic, composed, beautiful man. His hair styled just so. His attire immaculate and complimentary to his coloration. His pale skin almost translucent in the midday sun. His dark, stormy eyes flecked with silver, and looking out over the gathering with—would be enjoyment? Would there be pain? Would he regret rolling over?

No, he wouldn't. He would have his customary mask in place. Possibly even pretending to smile every so often so as not to draw attention to his true feelings, and no one among the gathering would know what went on behind his façade.

Renji doubted any of them were even aware that the man's eyes were the window to his soul. That when he was in the throes of passion they clouded over with silver. That when someone he loved more than anything else was wronged the precious orbs darkened to the shade of a summer thunderstorm. And that when he was completely content, secluded away in the privacy of his quarters, the mask dropped completely. Did they even know how complicated that man was? No. All they saw was their Clan Leader.

But, for all their misunderstanding, he had chosen to agree. He had decided to go ahead with it. He'd rolled over like a trained performance animal. Renji wouldn't think of him as a dog, because he was the dog; the stray, barking at the mood; the monkey trying to catch the moon's reflection without ever truly seeing it. Never before had Renji believed that more than he did now.

Let the perfect man, with his perfect world, and his perfect life live that way. Renji didn't need wealth or fine things. He'd grown up with little more than the clothes on his back. As long as he had enough food in his belly, he was good.

He was lying.

He didn't know how long he lay there, in the dirt, blood and tears where he'd collapsed when his strength gave out. It must have been a while because the sun had cooled. The breeze had picked up. Somewhere at the far end of the field the trees rustled. He snorted, because those trees reminded him of everything he didn't want to remember right now.

As such, he didn't hear the footsteps in the dirt until the voice spoke above him. "Abarai-fukutaicho." His voice was so soft it was painful, and Renji winced as though the figure above him had cut him. This pillar of nobility that never repeated himself, did so. "Abarai-fukutaicho."

Others may have interpreted the repetition to be colored with irritation, annoyance, perhaps concern, as having been ignored the first time, but Renji heard none of it. The speaker was just as unemotional the second time as he had been the first time. It cut into the vice-captain deeper than the petal blade still clutched in his hand. He had lost feeling in the first two fingers and his thumb. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind he realized that this was a bad sign, but frankly he just couldn't bring himself to care.

A delicate ebony eyebrow twitched as the only outward sign that he noticed something was decidedly wrong with his vibrant second-in-command. Absently the thumb of his left hand adjusted the ring on the third finger there; he was not used to it. It had been almost 60 years since he'd worn one. He contemplated speaking a third time. Perhaps his vice-captain hadn't heard him, perhaps he was sleeping, but no, his reiatsu was not relaxed and there was something—a scent—on the air.

Never before had he ever seen the energetic fighter from the Rukongai in such a state, even after the horrible battles preceding and during the Winter War and the events that followed after in cleaning up Aizen's mess. If his second was a weaker man he would have considered the possibility of someone from another division being too zealous in sparring, but there were very few who could even keep up with the man on the ground in front of him, let alone surpass him in such a manner.

Stepping carefully around the prone form in the middle of his training ground, Byakuya frowned ever so slightly. Zabimaru was sealed and off to the side, and Renji's left hand was clutched to his chest underneath him. Somehow his signature crimson ponytail was loose, the band long forgotten, and as such the strands stuck to his face, whether from sweat or something else, Byakuya didn't know. As he moved around so that his shadow no longer fell on his vice-captain he identified the smell in the air—blood.

Now he spoke again, "You are bleeding." And he caught the way the object of his attention flinched at the sound of his voice. Somewhere, under the mask a coil of pain and guilt made itself known. He absently fiddled with the ring on his finger again, and he began to see what was truly wrong with his second-in-command. On his chest, buried under the layers of clothing almost as deep as his invisible mask, a slightly curved sliver of metal began to burn, heavy and cold against his breast bone.

Suddenly he wished they were inside, behind closed doors, with the rest of the division gone for the weekend. The coil of pain writhed against his mask, and he tasted bile on the back of his tongue. The charm he still hung around his neck grew heavier and the nue made its presence known in cold swift judgement.

He closed his eyes, lest the pain within break through his façade, and unwrapped the almost-white scarf from around his neck. _I gave this to you once, Renji, when your fang reached me. Please, take it again, now, when I have maimed you so horribly._ He laid the cloth over the form on the ground, as equally cut down now as the last time he had performed the motion. Then he was gone, the weight of the interaction too much for his walls to withstand. As such he didn't see Renji reach out and grasp the cloth, dirtying it with the blood and soil caked into his left hand.

In that moment Renji made a decision. His eyes, hidden behind his hair, alighted on the naked steel of Zabimaru. Dragging himself to his feet proved to tear open the cuts on his hand again, adding bright red to the stain of brown on the scarf. He took himself off in the opposite direction as his taicho.

It was much, much later when he returned, dressed in his favorite yukata and a pair of non-descript hakama. He carried a bundle of neatly folded black and white clothing; missing one kurosode. He delivered it to its appropriate destination, and disappeared into the darkness of Seireitei at night.

The next morning when Kuchiki-taicho, sans scarf, stepped into the office building of his division he found the pile of clothing, a small stack of paperwork, a sealed envelope with his name on it, and the vice-captain's badge. His hand trembled as he reached out to touch the badge. No matter the strength of his mask, it was nothing compared to the stab of agony he felt when he recognized the resignation papers, filled out with the neatest handwriting he'd ever received from his—now ex—vice-captain.

Fearing that he would lose all of his composure standing in the hallway, he quickly gathered the pile into his arms and actually used Shunpo to get behind his door and lock it. Once there he left the clothing and badge on the desk he couldn't bear seeing, and took the paperwork and envelope to his own workstation. The paperwork he set in the middle of his well-organized desk, and took the somewhat oversized envelope in trembling hands.

He broke the seal, and pulled his scarf from the confines. It was stained, deep brown from blood, and cut in half, the precious silk ragged and torn. From the pattern of blood, he could tell what Renji had done with it. Through all of this he maintained his mask, at least insofar as to not outwardly loose the hissing, spitting, mocking pain that put pressure on the back of his eyes. Then he heard a tinkle, and he could do nothing as the tears spilled from his eyes mimicking the falling of a single, shimmering, charm in the shape of a sakura petal. It flashed pink very briefly, and disappeared into nothing before hitting the desk.

Around his neck, where it always sat no matter what, even yesterday through the circus act in which he had participated, the silver and black fang hung heavy and so cold it burned. It hadn't disappeared. The owner was nowhere nearby, but he knew that over time, it would stop reacting to his reiatsu. It didn't matter where Renji went, the further he got from Byakuya the less connection the fang around his neck would have, until eventually, it would simply be a silver charm on a cord the color of a vibrant young fighter's tattoos.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **I wish someone had told me this got screwed up. x.x Well, it's fixed now. Though I have no clue what my original A/N said.

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"So, how was your trip, Free-loader-san?" Kisuke flipped his fan in front of his face with a light in his eyes.

Renji shrugged and rolled his shoulder after setting the duffle bag down. He brushed the road dust from the knees of his khakis and smoothed the wrinkles from his long-sleeved tee-shirt. He sighed, "Urahara-san, how soon will the Senkaimon be ready?"

"Yare, yare, all business and no fun with you, Free-loader-san." The shopkeeper gestured with his fan and turned to enter the shoten. "Come along then, Yoruichi told me you were coming. You can leave as soon as you want."

"Thanks." He grabbed his duffle bag again, and made his way to the gigai storage room. Leaving it was almost like dying all over again, but Zabimaru felt good against his hip. He stashed the duffle in the cabinet under his gigai before leaving.

Stepping back into Seireitei was bittersweet. The time away had done nothing to lift the burden of pain from his heart, but the air was sweet and the sounds more soothing on his ears than even the peaceful places he'd seen in the Living World. He rolled his shoulder again. Damn Urahara and his stupid payments. Though, if it helped, he guessed the pain was worth it.

Back in the Living World, Kisuke examined Renji's gigai and shook his head deeply when he removed the razor blade from the front pocket of the khakis. His expression drew into a deeper concern upon finding the multitudes of puckered, silvered lines running from the palms to the elbows. Just what had happened in the six months that Renji had been away to have brought the exuberant man to such depths of despair? Returning to the main part of the shoten he sent Yoruichi after Renji with a message addressed to Unohana, Yamamoto, and Byakuya. Those that cared the most for the young man would have to watch him closely.

The addressees from Kisuke's message had about the same reaction, a frown of concern. Unohana brought Hanataro in to schedule an evaluation with Renji. Yamamoto contacted Unohana to confirm that the Fukutaicho be examined both physically and mentally before returning for duty. But Byakuya merely drew his bottom lip into his teeth and folded the message neatly into his pocket.

"Byakuya-sama?" The soft voice called from the door of his study. He turned and the woman, barely old enough to be so, knelt with difficulty around her still sore belly. "Tamotsu-sama has been fed and is sleeping quietly. Is there anything else you require, my husband?"

His voice seemed cold, but really he was simply tired. "No, Kazuko-san. You may retire for the day." He tried to be nice to her, and he did his best to honor her, but really—he just wanted to be alone. The pain of losing Hisana compounded with the weight of the fang he still refused to remove.

He had done what the Elders had asked. He had taken a wife, adopted her illegitimate child as his heir because the lesser cousin who had sired the babe was killed in the line of duty. He did not lay with her, and refused to impose on her that way. He knew well the grief she bore, and blamed her not for her plans to leave as soon as young Tamotsu, named for his deceased father, was old enough to be without her. It would be another week before her pains from labor would be gone completely, but the babe had already attached himself to his wet nurse. Soon the two would be allowed to dissolve the marriage legally and Kazuko could return to her own home to mourn her lost lover in peace without the burdens of being the wife of the Head of the Kuchiki.

Once more alone in his study, Byakuya allowed himself to feel. He reached into his yukata and grasped the metal fang. It was tingling now that its owner had returned to the Soul Society. He hoped that it wouldn't dissolve the way the petal from Senbonzakura had when he touched it. A new one sat, encased in reiatsu proof glass, on the shelf above his desk in his office at the division in the hopes that once his marriage with Kazuko was dissolved he could return it to the one who held his heart. But he feared that their chance had passed by his choice to do the right thing.

It had happened so quickly. Young Kuchiki Tamotsu had been an unseated officer in the Thirteenth, and no one had expected him to have a love interest, let alone a lover who was just in the beginnings of her pregnancy. Ukitake Kazuko had been heartbroken and only at her great-uncle's insistence did she come forward to Byakuya with her predicament. The Kuchiki Elders saw this as a perfect opportunity to remind their Leader that he still had not chosen an heir. So, they struck a deal.

Once again the rules of his station had come crashing down on him, and cost him dearly. He took the kenseiken from his hair with a deft swipe and glared at the offensive symbol of his status. He gripped it tightly, and inhaled sharply when the pressure of his anger cracked the porcelain tube slicing the pad of his index finger. Slightly detached from the sensation he watched a few drops of blood fall from his finger to the paper he'd been working on.

He always brought his paperwork home these days. He couldn't stand to sit in that office, so close to the place that was as empty as his heart, and forced to deal with the tingle of the residual reiatsu that was as familiar to his senses as the touch or scent or sound of his missing lover. Ex-lover? No, he refused to give him up. He'd done what he had to do but that didn't mean he'd changed his mind.

It had taken real courage to approach him that way, he knew. He remembered the sight of terror in Renji's eyes, deep and cinnamon, as he explained what he had come to realize about his obsession with the Kuchiki Clan Leader. For a while it had been awkward, but the same thrill of excitement that had moved Byakuya to accept the crimson haired warrior as his Fukutaicho in the first place cemented the attraction between them.

Renji thought Byakuya hadn't seen him that day when he adopted Rukia. He was wrong. A flash of crimson, the scent of cinnamon, and the energy of a wild and unbroken stallion, much like the spirit beasts that inhabited the worlds between worlds. Though he knew right away that no one could ever lay ownership of such a person, he had to have him. So, he baited him; gave the youth just enough to keep him running after him. Even as wrapped up in Hisana's memory as he was, he couldn't resist the red head. Even now, when he had no right, he still felt the pull towards him.

He allowed himself the night to pine after his lost lover. The tears he hadn't shed since the petal was returned burning hot against his cheeks. He rubbed the fang, uncaring that the edge could cut him more sharply than the broken kenseikan. And he gave in to the million questions that ran around in his head regarding why Renji had returned, what he was going to do now, and did he still love him?

Evening became night, night became morning, and around him Seireitei moved on. Renji could only stand on the balcony outside of Yamamoto-Sotaicho's office and watch. He'd been there since somewhere around midnight when he and the borrowed futon had come to the agreement that he wasn't going to be getting any sleep that night. So he watched as runners from the Ninth brought everyone their latest edition of the _Seireitei Communication Monthly_ and a veritable legion of hell butterflies were released from somewhere below him in the First division.

The sun was a thumb's width above the horizon when Sasakibe-Fukutaicho appeared behind Renji to inform him that the Sotaicho was ready for him. He took a deep breath and entered the office, bowing as deeply as he could.

"Rise, Abarai-Fukutaicho."

The use of his former title left him stunned. "But—?"

The old man's voice was just this side of annoyed, which Renji supposed counted as amused. "Abarai-Fukutaicho your letter of resignation was denied. You were granted a leave of absence instead. I expect you to see Unohana-Taicho for a full evaluation before returning to your normal duties with the Sixth division." Yamamoto's eyes cracked open ever so slightly, waiting for the young man's reaction.

"Hai, Sotaicho." Renji bowed deeply again, knowing full well if he didn't accept what the general was offering he could consider himself exiled. In truth he had not intended on returning but Zabimaru's missing fang refused to give him rest. The nue determinedly insisted that he either needed to go ask for it back or take back Senbonzakura's petal because it couldn't be bothered with the petty misunderstandings and insecurities of Shinigami.

"Dismissed, Abarai." The general turned to his breakfast, and Renji quickly made his way to the Fourth, a pit opening up within him.

Unohana was her usual cheerful self when he arrived. "Good morning, Abarai-san!" She got straight to work, scanning him with her reiatsu, listening to his breathing, counting his pulse, measuring his blood pressure, checking his temperature and all of the other standard tests that come with a routine physical. Then she asked him to remove his yukata, the same one he'd left in as he no longer owned any shihakusho.

He hesitated. "I—" Her smile took on the quality that could bring even Kenpachi to his knees, and he quickly bared himself from the waist up, acutely aware of the brand new adornments to his wrists and lower arms.

For the first time in his entire career with the Soul Society, Renji saw Unohana's smile fade. "Abarai-san, please tell me that these scars are not self-inflicted."

He couldn't look her in the eye, so he crossed his arms across his chest and looked away. "Tch! No. I got into a scuffle with some human and put him through a window. It cut up the back of his head worse."

"Hm." She didn't believe him, but with no other evidence than her instinct to go on, she couldn't keep him from active duty. Especially not when she knew he'd be needed in the altercation with the Fullbringers. With a wave of her hand, Isane-Fukutaicho brought in a new shihakusho for him. "Please dress appropriately, Abarai-Fukutaicho. You are cleared for active duty, but please, as a word of warning, refrain from shoving anyone through any _windows_ in the near future."

She didn't believe him, and he knew she didn't believe him, but he answered her keeping up the lie anyway. "Of course, Unohana-Taicho. Thank you for the clothing and the clearance." He bowed respectfully and left the Fourth for his own quarters.

Though he hadn't replaced his yukata, he gratefully had his arms buried in the folds of his new shihakusho. So, nothing was visible as he crossed through Seireitei just before lunch. No one stopped him, and he was thankful that he could make it to his apartment with no explanations. He knew there would be questions, and he really didn't feel like answering any of them.

Dressing quickly, he took as little time as possible before arriving at the Sixth. The dread in his stomach grew, and he couldn't seem to keep the cuffs of his kosode over his wrists. With a frustrated sigh he ducked into the supply warehouse just outside the administrative building. The guard was out at lunch with the rest of the division in the chow hall, meaning he could slip in grab the bandages he came for and make it back out without rousing suspicion. He used the shadows of the building to wrap the white cloth from his elbows to his wrists. Satisfied with his new scars covered, he took a deep breath, grabbed all of his courage, and knocked several times on the door of the office—their office.

"Enter." Came the voice that was still so soft it sliced through his defenses like a blade.

He strode through with more pride and strength than he really felt. Hiding his pain and anguish behind a careful mask of arrogance and distance. Oh no, he was no longer the defeated Rukongai dog, and he let the muscle of his upper lip curl ever so slightly.

"Kuchiki-Taicho, Abarai-Fukutaicho reporting for duty."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** VIOLENCE! Self-inflicted wounds! AKA CUTTING! Don't like? Then why are you reading this story?

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His heart stopped. He thought he was ready, but coming face to face with the man he'd been missing so horribly was almost shattering. Though he didn't know what he was expecting, the self-assured, _cold_ man standing in front of him wasn't it. He could do little else but make eye contact, even though the darkness, cold and penetrating where innocent fire had once burned, made it difficult to breathe.

"I see. Unohana-Taicho has cleared you for duty then, Abarai." His words were far colder than he felt. If anything he was burning alive. Damn his position. Damn his family. Damn himself. Here was the object of his every dream and nightmare standing in front of him and all he could bring himself to talk about was work! What was wrong with his tongue! Internally he screamed and raged and cursed and fought against the mask that held tight. Far tighter than those of the Visored. And little did he know, Renji saw it all.

Cinnamon met storm cloud grey, and Renji knew that behind the mask Byakuya was furious. Within his own tornado of agony he realized that he should have expected this. Even if Yamamoto wanted him to remain vice-captain of the Sixth, it didn't mean that Byakuya was comfortable with him resuming his previous duties. Their relationship not-withstanding, he'd been gone this whole time; abandoned his post and taken off, left Soul Society altogether. He ran away. So, why would Kuchiki-Taicho even want him back? He had better, more dedicated, more available, more female officers. Because why would he ever want Renji?

The silence seemed to stretch between them for too long as those piercing eyes bore into Renji's soul. He fought himself with every fiber of his being to keep from flinching or fiddling or trembling. He was mostly successful, and Byakuya didn't let on that he'd noticed the tremor in the way his vice-captain held himself. He merely closed his eyes, turning his attention back to the paperwork on his desk. Personal matters had no business in the work environment. There would be time later to sort out the painful clenching in his chest and the way he couldn't seem to breathe as calmly as he would have liked.

The clear dismissal impaled Renji, but all he could do with that carefully build mask he went into the Living World to create was bow stiffly and take his place at his assigned desk. Never before had he thrown himself into filling out paperwork the way he did then. But it wasn't as though Byakuya noticed, right?

The hours ticked by and though it came sooner than Renji anticipated, he was immensely relieved by the sounding of the first division bells calling an end to the work day. He stood, gathered his paperwork together in a neat stack, and turned to his captain.

"Taicho." He bowed stiffly again, placing the sheaf of papers into the 'outgoing' basket. He didn't wait for an acknowledgement before leaving with a steel rod holding him up.

Byakuya watched the red-head leave, and only when the door was closed did he allow himself the luxury of grasping the metal hanging against his chest. The faintest pulse of reiatsu tingled against his skin, as the presence of the main body of the Zanpakutou reestablished its connection due to proximity of the two pieces. He closed his eyes, slipping his long fingers underneath the folds of his haori and kosode to brush against the cool metal more deliberately.

Was it really so long ago that they had lingered behind the closed door of the main office after the lower ranked and unseated members of the division trailed out to wherever they needed to be at the end of the day? Had things progressed so far that the desire to even be in the same room had disappeared? What happened to that all-consuming fire that had demanded the sometimes brash Rukongai native invade the noble's personal space in most inappropriate ways? Did he do the right thing after all?

Across the way, in the officers' quarters of the Sixth's barracks, Renji leaned back against the wall. The room was dark. All the better to hide what he was doing. The only light filtered in through the threadbare curtains to wash the center of the modest bedroom in muted gold. His hair was down, his uniform abandoned in a corner where it was sure to be wrinkled come morning, and he'd removed the bandages from his wrists. It took a few minutes to reveal the multitudes of silver, puckered and indented, lines that ran in all ways but vertical up the length of the undersides of his forearms. His eyes burned and he traced a particularly bright, half-healed line that stretched from the center of his elbow to halfway down his right arm in a diagonal jagged curve.

Grazing the skin with his thumb nail the scabs peeled off. His blood welled up in the places where the tissue underneath hadn't fully sealed itself, but his eyebrows drew together. It wasn't enough. This puny sting didn't distract him at all from the weight in his heart so heavy that it felt like the left side of his chest would collapse under the pressure at any moment.

He thumbed the blade he usually used to whittle wood with the hand that hadn't scratched his arm. He felt the metal press into the pad of his thumb and made the decision without even thinking. Flicking his left wrist over to bare the creased underside, he pressed the blade against the skin. For a few seconds it seemed like he wasn't going to do more than that, but then his grip tightened on the blade and in a flash he sliced the dermis. This time he felt the searing bolt of white lightening through his nerves. He flexed his left hand into a fist, forcing more of the crimson life fluid to well up and out of the gash to drip onto his floor. He breathed through his teeth and closed his eyes. If there was moisture on his cheeks he didn't notice as the lost himself in the pain, gripping both his fist and the handle of the knife until all ten knuckles were white.

A few moments later, when the pain had begun to ebb, Renji re-opened his eyes. The blood was clotting, leaving a soft smear across his wrist, and he snorted as the weight settled into his chest again. It was taking more and more to do what he needed it to these days. Without another hesitation he placed a second laceration beneath the first, letting the sensations wash over him like the addict he was. The two, aggravated by clenching and releasing his fist, lasted until the sun had begun to set, shifting the light balance from gold to grey. A reflection from a shaft of light bouncing off the metal of the bathroom mirror across the room from Renji put a spot light on where his blood dripped in slow, fat drops from his self-inflicted injuries to his dark, wooden floor. When he caught himself watching the drops he added a third slash. The gripping agony of his sliced flesh cleared his thoughts, giving him one thing to focus on. It drew his attention so completely that he never noticed two very dangerous things about his final mark: it was vertical, along the length rather than the width of his arm, and up near his wrist the blood welling up came from within him in pulsing waves.

There, that would last for a few days, or at least, until tomorrow. He breathed deeply, relishing in the pulse of his heart sending waves of fire across his abused skin. He rested his head back against the wall, eyes closed and his bottom lip tucked securely between his teeth. Long ago he had learned how to mute the sounds of pain when he was still staying at the Urahara Shoten and had only just discovered the ecstasy of self-inflicted agony. It had been hard to explain how he'd slashed his forearm on Zabimaru, but no one at the store had dug too deeply into his flimsy excuses. Still, having to fend off polite inquiries the morning after his first time had given him the incentive to get out and tour the Living World a bit more broadly. It had taken a few more thinly walled living quarters and a junkie in America to teach him how to mute the pain completely.

Well, not entirely. Zabimaru grumbled in foul language under the haze of his after-shock euphoria. Though he could hear the disgusted words clearly, he didn't give them enough attention to understand what the nue was saying. He preferred to stay firmly ensconced in the feeling of literally bleeding the pressure from his chest, as though the released fluid could drain away the weight of his heart so that he could carry it a bit better. All in all it felt a bit like being too full, stretched and thinned from the inside out, very touch threatening to snap that last line of defense between surviving and exploding in a gory, violent mess. By slicing his wrists, that pressure was released, and predictably, the sense of relief at that release was a profound and highly addicting substance worth more to Renji than any other mind-altering substance.

No longer did he waste his money on alcohol of any sort. Now it was funneled into maintaining his blades. The sharper they were, the deeper they cut, and the deeper they cut, the longer the relief lasted. He'd even given up replacing his sunglasses twice to obtain new razor blades. One an imported porcelain from Canada, and the other, a delicate ivory-handled ceremonial knife from Africa. Those two were on a shelf in a case locked away from prying eyes at the Shoten, since Living World materials couldn't pass through the dangai.

In his contemplation he realized that he'd have to replace those knives. The whittling knife served for today because he was desperate, but before these had fully healed he would have to get something more—suitable for the sanctity of his sanity while completing his morbid worship of pain. He was getting slightly light-headed.

Perhaps he'd done too much tonight? No. This was just the disconnected feeling that always followed the relief as his body attempted to return to its previous heavy state. However, perhaps just sleeping here against the wall wouldn't be such a bad idea, at least it was sort of clean. So, still not listening to Zabimaru's complaining, Renji let himself drift, slipping into something halfway between unconsciousness and sleep. As such he never heard the polite knocking against his door or the shattering of porcelain and gasp of the person who'd come to visit.


	4. Chapter 4

"NII-SAMA!" Rukia's voice cut through the stillness of his garden like ice water on a fire. He had just looked up from his cup of tea when his adopted younger sister burst through the shoji screen. Her hair was wet with sweat and perhaps tears flowing down her face? "Nii-sama! Please! Come quickly!"

He rose to his feet entirely too slowly for her frantic reiatsu. Normally he would have cut her off, but he was entirely too raw from having to uphold the façade today at work. So, when she grasped the sleeve of his yukata all he noticed was her hands were covered in blood. Fear shot through him like Shinso.

"Please, Nii-sama! It's Renji!" She tugged on his sleeve again as he felt his heart shatter into more pieces than his Bankai.

He took off in Shunpo without waiting for her, his hand clenched around the now burning charm around his neck. His thoughts frantically called for the man who held his heart, and the vision of the once fiery red-head slumped over against the wall of his home was enough to bring him to his knees. He ignored the puddle of blood on the floor, grasping the still sluggishly bleeding wrist in a vice grip. Renji's skin was too pale, the black lines of his tattoos standing out like ebony brands. There was a screaming in his mind, or was that in his ears?

He focused all of his reiatsu into the wound, though he didn't know even a fraction of what those in the Fourth could do he couldn't simply sit there and do nothing. Not when he still had so much to tell the man in front of him.

Minutes, or was it hours, later firm, gentle hands were pulling Byakuya away from Renji. A cup of hot tea was shoved into his still bloody hands, but the temperature did nothing to soothe the chill in his heart. Not since Renji had been trounced by Kurosaki during that fateful invasion had Byakuya been so scared. That in and of itself had rocked him to the core.

Now, sitting with the unconscious man, he was vaguely aware that someone was maintaining some distance between himself and the rest of the Soul Society. His image be damned as far as he was concerned. He no longer knew how long it had been since his sister's discovery, but it had to have been hours. The Fourth was quiet, Renji was in guarded condition, but if his body accepted the last of the transfusion currently being pumped into his arm he would be stable. Physically at least. Unohana had made no specific statements about what could have driven the proud warrior to do this to himself, but Byakuya knew.

He reached to draw the Zanpakutou sliver from his yukata and the moonlight streaming through the window of the Fourth glinted off the ring that he still wore. He glared at it. Then, as if his mask hadn't already been thrown aside in his frantic rush to his vice captain's side, he ripped the offending metal from his hand and threw it against the wall. It struck something metal and clanged harshly in the silence. He continued to glare at it, even though he couldn't see it in the shadows of where it had landed. It was time to do something about this.

"I swear, Renji," He took the limp, pale, cold hand in both of his own, "I will fix this." He didn't notice the glint of moisture on the red-head's lashes when he turned and left the room.

The next morning brought sunlight blazing across Renji's abused form. He groaned, his head felt like he'd been going toe-to-toe with Kenpachi AND Ichigo. What had he been doing? Why was he in the F—oh shit. He looked around, fear and anger in his eyes. He took in the plain, cheery walls, the feel of the bed, and the dull ache in the crook of his right arm. Wait, right arm? That wasn't right. That's when he saw the IV. He closed his eyes again.

"Fuck." He muttered into the quite of the room. "I took it too far again."

"I would say so, Abarai-Fukutaicho." The soft voice the captain of the Fourth brought his eyes open again. He hadn't noticed her sitting near the wall the first time he looked around the room. When he didn't appear to be interested in elaborating, she crossed the room with that scary smile. "Perhaps you would like to amend your report from yesterday?"

For a moment he was intimidated by her, but then the pain of the IV reminded him why he shouldn't lose control. His eyes and jaw hardened. "No, Unohana-Taicho. I stand by my report."

She actually looked sad. "I see. Then I am afraid that I have no choice but to recommend you be kept under supervision until we can further discuss this. Self-injury is a very serious symptom, Abarai-san."

He looked away at the lack of his title. Of course he wouldn't be returned to duty. Now they thought he was suicidal, he was sure of it. They wouldn't understand any better than the Human doctors had the first time he'd cut too deep. Absently he brought his left hand over to rub his thumb across a line that ran the width of his wrist, just below the palm. Though the pain of the IV was an irritation, now that he'd moved his left arm, his eyes slid closed again, relishing the hint of the damage he'd done the night before. Of course the meddling officers of the Fourth had healed the gashes, and unlike the Human version, they'd used kido, almost completely erasing it.

She was still talking, but he'd stopped listening. The memory of pain was almost as good as the real thing. It was what had gotten him through escaping the Human hospital. True, he could have abandoned his gigai, but that would have meant going back to Urahara and asking for a new one, and answering questions he really didn't want to answer. He still didn't want to answer them. Not to the Fourth, not to the Human doctors, not even to his so-called friends that had stood there and enjoyed the—no! Stop! That wasn't going to help anything.

"Did you hear me, Abarai-san?" Unohana had touched his left arm, bringing him out of his thoughts.

"Yeah." Sure he didn't, but he wasn't going to admit that.

She smiled that smile again, "I said, you'll be spending your recuperation with Kuchiki-Fukutaicho and Kuchiki-Taicho at their manor until you have been cleared for duty."

The world opened up and swallowed his stomach. No! No! That was the LAST place he needed to be. That cold, mother-fucker could just play house for all he cared, but to be subjected to having to deal with his—he choked on the thought—wife? It was too much.

Taking the light in his eyes to be acceptance, Unohana smiled and squeezed his arm again. "You'll be going there tomorrow after I've made certain that all of your injuries have been healed." Then she left him alone.

The rest of the day he contemplated using the IV needle to reopen the half-healed wound on his right arm, just for something to do to get his mind off of where he was going the next day. But that, he knew, would just mean he'd be strapped to the bed. He'd dealt with that the first time thank you. So he brooded, and not for the first time since he'd done it, wished he hadn't given away the only piece of his lover he had been allowed to keep when the marriage was announced. But he had, and now he couldn't go asking for it back. He was sure of that.

The orderly that night brought him a cup of tea he knew was laced with anti-depressants and sleeping aids. It was the same story all over again. So, as he let the medications lay a blanket of plastic sensations over his normally acute senses, he let them see the defeat he felt. Normally that scared away most people, and he wasn't wrong when the unseated officer looked into his blank rusty stare with nervous helplessness. He breathed a sigh of relief when the other left, and let himself drift somewhere between consciousness and his inner world.

The second dawn was grey, overcast and reflective of his mood as Renji stepped out of the Fourth. Rukia was to his side talking animatedly about something or other, but just as he had with Unohana he ignored her. It wasn't that he didn't care about what she was saying. He tried to catch a few words, honest, but with every step towards the Kuchiki manor he could ignore the growing pressure in his chest.

Her sharp, violet gaze caught the way Renji rubbed at where the gashes had been two days ago. Just how far had her first adopted brother fallen? And why? He'd been fine, or so she thought, but then he'd taken off, skirting around the Living World for months. At first she thought he'd gone to spend time with Ichigo, but when she arrived both Kurosaki-san and Urahara-san hadn't seen him. Though they did have some interesting information about helping Ichigo, but they needed Renji too. She analyzed him, still prattling about some nonsense or other she wasn't even paying attention to herself even though she was speaking it.

Frowning at an action that she'd seen Byakuya make all too often. "You two were lovers weren't you?"

Renji stopped cold in his tracks, and looked down at her. He'd been able to ignore her up to this point, but that sentence, in its simplicity cut through his focus. Silence stretched between them for a moment, "Yeah."

The light missing from his eyes, the way he rubbed at his chest unconsciously, his sudden disappearance after the wedding. She snorted. "Baka yarou." Her voice was soft, chiding, and Renji wasn't quite sure if she meant him or HIM. He didn't get the chance to ask either as the very next moment they were escorted by the head of staff of the Kuchiki manor through the front gates and into Byakuya's private study.

They were met by an official of the Kuchiki council of elders, who bowed deeply to Renji and apologized, "Kuchiki-dono is away on clan business. He will join you both for dinner this evening. Until then, please, allow Kuchiki-sama," He gestured to Rukia, "to show you around the manor. The servants have been informed of your presence and will see to it a bath is drawn and fresh robes provided before the evening meal." He bowed again, and Rukia answered him with a small tilt of her head.

Renji just crossed his arms over his chest and raised his eyebrow at all the fawning and kowtowing. It took all he could to not snort at the ridiculousness of the situation. Unohana had informed him that it was Byakuya's request that he stay with them, and the man wasn't even here to greet him when he got 'home' so to speak. Well, it wasn't like that wasn't to be expected. He knew very well where his place was in relation to his captain—the monkey jumping at the reflection of the moon.

The official left, revealing Byakuya's desk, and that's where Renji was brought up short. There, in the center of the desk, suspended in a glass box, a single faintly glowing petal strung on an ebony cord. He stared at it, unaware of Rukia. There was a sheet of paper tucked under the corner of the box. It obviously went together, and printed in elegant calligraphy: "To my dearest love; you gave me back my heart when I had thought it lost. You brought a light into my world that chased away the shadows of my grief. Without you, I never would have been able to move forward to the future. Thank you, and please…" It was not finished, but Renji recognized that script anywhere.

A slow, dark tremble built in the large man's muscles. He may have been forced to stay here, but he never agreed to participating in the household. He might be willing to put up with Rukia, but he had no desire to see the man that owned that penmanship, and he most definitely didn't want to meet his replacement! There were enough servants, if they really needed to watch him they could without ever lifting a finger.

"I think I'd like to grab that bath now, Rukia." He said tonelessly. Once again he crossed his arms over his chest, and slid that apathetic, cold mask over his features.

She looked back and forth between the desk and her best friend, "Yeah. Sure." The trinket was obviously a piece of Senbonzakura, but even if they were lovers, why did Renji react like that? They hadn't—had they? She led him from the room to the private bath attached to the suite of rooms placed at his disposal.

Renji entered and shut the door in her face without another word. She glared. She didn't know what was going on, but damn it all if she wasn't going to find out!


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Hey I've got a poll going regarding the side story to this, could everybody please travel over to my profile and take a vote in it? I'm working with some stuff but I don't wanna confuse anyone by posting things that would distract from this. Thanks so much. =D

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He got out of dinner, in fact he got out of dinner for the rest of the week. The servants brought him a tray, and he ate enough to keep Rukia from worrying too much. He could tell his sister-in-all-but-blood was terrified of what had happened but either she didn't know how to bring it up or Byakuya had convinced her not to. Renji suspected the latter, but the former was actually more likely.

The eighth day the red-head stayed at the Kuchiki manor he found himself unable to avoid coming in contact with the benefactor of his recovery. He sat as still and as straight as he could at the dinner table, across from Rukia.

"I trust you are settled in well, Abarai-san?" Byakuya attempted conversation.

"Hai, Kuchiki-sama. The accommodations are quite comfortable. Thank you for your hospitality." His voice was clipped, and he couldn't stop the next words out of his mouth, "Is your wife not joining us?"

Byakuya flinched. "No, she was not feeling well this evening. Tamotsu kept her up most of last night and today. So she is resting." He kept his attention on his plate, praying that his eyes didn't give away the pain at how far away he was from his heart. Against his chest, the fang of Zabimaru hummed from the proximity.

"I hope she rests well, Kuchiki-sama." Renji bowed his head in a quick acknowledgement, then tucked into his food as quickly as possible.

Looking between the two Rukia was exasperated. The meal drew on, silent as the death, and the air in the room grew to be thick enough she could cut it with her hand, let alone a sword. Finally, just as dessert was served she'd had enough. She slammed her chopsticks down on the table and glared at both men.

"What the hell is going on with you two!" She fumed.

"Rukia." Her brother's tone was sharp with warning.

"Nii-sama, I don't care. You've been avoiding each other all week. You're partners, you're closer than any other taicho team in the Gotei 13. I don't know if it's because Renji is still recuperating or if there's something going on between you personally, but I'm tired of walking on eggshells around the both of you!" She rounded on Renji, "You skulk about in your room all day and all night. I know you're not still laid up by that cut. Unohana-taicho healed it with kido better than I have seen anyone else. You shouldn't even be in pain anymore." Then she turned to her brother, "And you! Not only do you go straight to your study after coming home from the division, you don't even visit with Tam-kun anymore. I know he's still a baby but you're the only father he has. He misses you! And don't get me started on the way Kazuko tries to hide! You'd swear that she was the bane of everyone's existence when all she ever did was love Tamotsu!"

Both men stared at her speechless, though they both held their carefully crafted masks in place, betraying nothing of how they truly felt. Which was ironic because they both felt the same, like she'd kicked each of them in the gut with Yoruichi's special boots.

She huffed, "I am going to take Kazuko and go out for ice cream. Either the two of you work out your issues tonight or we aren't coming back until they're solved." The petite woman stood from her place at the table and stormed off in the direction of the nursery wing and Kazuko's room.

Renji glanced at Byakuya out of the corner of his eye, but nothing in the stoic man's appearance gave him any indication that his ex-lover was willing to talk about anything. It didn't used to be like this. He knew Rukia was right. He just didn't think there was anything he could say. What's done is done, right? Even if there had been some kind of hope, he'd thrown the most important part of their relationship back in the noble's face. It didn't matter that Zabimaru was still missing a fang, it should regrow itself soon now that they were back in the Soul Society. He didn't actually have to touch the missing metal for it to rejoin the rest of itself. That was what Senbonzakura's petal had done, he was sure of it. So, where did they go from here? They had to figure out something, or else they wouldn't be able to work together, and the Sotaicho had informed him under no uncertain terms was he going to be allowed to transfer from the Sixth to anywhere else. Rukia was right there too; he and Byakuya were the closest taicho-fukutaicho team in the entire Seireitei, in the history of the Gotei 13.

"I believe I shall retire for the evening, Abarai-san. I will see on you on the morrow." The noble stood, bowed just barely and left the room in the opposite direction of Rukia. Leaving Renji to his thoughts.

The walk to his garden did nothing to clear Byakuya's head. Rukia was right; they needed to talk, but it was obvious his second-in-command wanted nothing to do with him. Maybe bringing him here to recover had been a bad idea, but Byakuya just couldn't stand the idea that Renji would be locked away in the Fourth for possibly months on end until he could convince Unohana that he hadn't been trying to commit suicide. No, for all the pain and stress of being here, it was better than the Fourth, and Urahara's idea to bring the substitute Shinigami back depended on Renji being able to donate reiatsu.

Once he reached the garden, he opened his yukata to draw the metal charm out from underneath the clothing. He could feel the approval of the metal at being bathed in the moonlight. Zabimaru was not all that different from Senbonzakura that way. Both Zanpakutou enjoyed the peaceful solitude of the night, or at least the small piece that Byakuya had constant contact with did. He had never been presumptuous enough to actually touch the full blade of his wild-haired lover—_ex-lover_, he thought sadly.

Somehow both men found their way back to their separate bedrooms, and morning dawned with singing birds, bright sunshine, and crying. Renji jerked awake, bleary-eyed and confused. His right wrist ached and he looked down. Oh yeah, he'd slit it last night after returning to his suite. It wasn't big, already scabbed over, but the dull pain sharpened his senses out of his dreams when he pressed on it. Then he heard the crying again.

It was soft, a couple rooms away, and young, infantile. Ah, must be 'Tam-kun' that Rukia mentioned the night before. Well, why didn't someone comfort the child? Surely there must be someone; servants, the child's mother, Rukia? Even Byakuya had a way with kids!

He looked around for a bit, something was off. The birds had stopped singing, though the sun was still bright. Stretching he made his way to the shoji screen that opened onto the garden. Opening it he got an eye-full! Still in the same yukata from the night before was Byakuya gracefully guiding his thousand bladed Zanpakutou after the scampering form of a centipede-like Hollow. How the hell had he missed that?

Grabbing Zabimaru from the stand by the door, Renji jumped from the porch outside his room into the garden. Statues were crumbled from the swing of the insectoid's tail, which had a wicked-nasty hook on the end that reminded Renji of the fangs of Zabimaru. The greenery of the garden was torn and ripped and burned in a few places that suggested either missed kido or an acidic venom.

"Hoeru, Zabimaru!" Renji snarled, arcing his blade to slice off the beast's tail. The thing swerved, but that put it in position for Senbonzakura's petals to carve into its thick hide, half blinding it. "Right behind you, Taicho."

The two fell easily into sync, back to back facing both ends of the creature at once as it bit at Byakuya and tried to swing its tail-fang at Renji. A rolled dodge, and the splash of vibrant pink across his vision told Renji that his captain had his back as well. Two more dodged attacks from the tail had Renji in a position to really do some damage.

"Cover me!" He called, and brought Zabimaru around. Pink petals framed his vision, holding off the tail, and he swung his arm, throwing the length of his blade's extension around the middle of the beast. A flick of his wrist and the fangs sliced through the thick hierro, effectively cutting the Hollow in half. The tail fell, twitching and writhing on the grass, and Renji saw the green leaves burn where the creature's blood touched the ground. Inwardly he cringed because he knew getting that stuff off of Zabimaru's fangs was going to be painful.

"Renji." The quiet voice cut through his thoughts. "Get the woman and child inside."

Only then did Renji realize Kazuko, his replacement, and the baby he'd heard earlier, Tam-kun or whatever, were cowering near the base of Hisana's sakura tree. The adrenaline and pressing danger were the only things keeping Renji from dwelling on their presence under the tree where he and Byakuya had first been together.

"Hai, Taicho!" He dashed under the cloud of petals, knowing as soon as he had the woman and child inside Byakuya could use his Bankai to kill the Hollow. He got to her quickly, "Come, woman! You need to get the child out of here before Taicho unleashes his Bankai."

"Please, take Tamotsu! I can't make it!" The pale haired woman reminded him of Ukitake-taicho as she tried to shove her baby into his arms.

"No. C'mon." He hoisted her bridal-style, heedless of the gash across her stomach and ducked into Byakuya's private study just before he heard the soft 'Ban. Kai.'

Once safely beyond the captain's personal desk Renji set the woman down and turned to go back out and aid Byakuya. A delicate hand, too weak to really hold him, grabbed onto his sleeve.

"Please." She begged, her voice ragged. "I know that kind of Hollow. The cliffs of my family's estate draw them every year. I won't be long for this world. Not with a cut like this. Its venom is swift and deadly." She pushed the still screaming child up to him in such a way that if he didn't hold it the babe would fall.

"I-I-I-" He stammered, looking from the child to the woman and back again.

"I have seen the way Byakuya-dono looks at you. I know that look. Take care of him, and Tamotsu, my son. They will need you both to weather the Elders' protests. I had hoped to seem him become a man, like his father was, but I will have to be content with watching from beyond the grave." She leaned up as best she could from her collapsed position on the floor to kiss the brow of the almost white-haired baby. "Be strong my little fighter. I am sorry that your daddy never got to know you, but I'll tell him all about you when I get there. I promise. Take care of Byakuya-jii-dono, and Renji-jii-sama too. I know they'll love you." She rested her head against Renji's bent knee, closed her eyes and her breath left her body.

Renji's eyes went wide. "No, no, no, no, no! You can't die! You just can't! Do you know what that would do to Taicho if you died, Woman! Hey! No!" He tried to nudge her with his knee, as the baby was in one arm and the other held Zabimaru, but all that happened was the woman's body fell over onto the floor without even so much as a whimper.

At that moment Byakuya stepped into the office. "The Hollow is gone." He stated needlessly and looked down.

"I'm so sorry, Taicho! I tried! Honest! She got stabbed, and there was some kind of poison. She said she knew the way it worked, and then she just—she said goodbye to Tamotsu and then she just—I'm so sorry Taicho!" Renji was on his knees, frozen to the spot next to where his captain's wife lay dead.

"It is alright, Renji. Take the child to the nursery, Azumi-obaa-san is there already I am sure. I will go to the Sotaicho and make my report. For now, just leave Kazuko-san's body there. I have already alerted the Second and the Fourth by Jigokuchou and someone will be around shortly to see that her body is kept clean and whole until I can arrange for her funeral pyre. If you cannot find anything else to do, I would appreciate a written description of what happened from the moment you picked her up until she died. I understand if this will be difficult for you, but for Tamotsu's sake, when he is older, I wish to have a written copy of the last words his mother spoke to him." The entire time Byakuya spoke Renji stared at him unbelieving.

"D-do you not care that she's dead?" Renji squeaked, finally gaining his feet, but still clutching the child like he was a lifeline.

"I am sorry that she will not be here for Tamotsu, and she was a young woman, with many fine qualities that I am sure could have been developed into great talents. But I do not personally feel a sense of loss, if that is to what you are referring." Byakuya blinked a few times, perhaps something about the way his Fukutaicho had been acting was beginning to make sense.

Renji fish-mouthed. "Y-you can't care for anyone can you? You just take what you want, do what you want, use what you want and cast people aside like they're nothing to you, don't you!" The red-head didn't even give the noble a chance to respond, he just turned on his heel and stalked out of the office, carrying the baby.

"You're wrong, Renji." Byakuya said quietly to the empty room.


	6. Chapter 6

Renji spent most of the day with Tamotsu, finding he suddenly had a lot more in common with the child than he had previously assumed. Azumi, the wet nurse, was there for feedings and changing but the rest of the time Renji had an overwhelming desire to hold the tow-headed child. Thanks to Azumi, Renji now knew that Kazuko had been Ukitake-Taicho's great-niece, and though the white hair that he sported was due to his illness, the family's close ties to Kira-Fukutaicho's family brought the blonde hair that both mother and son wore. Byakuya returned near dinner time, but Renji made no attempt to find his captain. He was content, staring into the angelic face of a child who would never know his mother.

A cough from the doorway of the nursery brought Renji's attention from the child. He frowned, "I'll let him go if ya want. I just felt he needed a sympathetic soul now that his mum's gone."

The ebony-haired captain looked tired, and he almost leaned against the doorframe. "You may hold him as long as you like, Ren—" He looked away, trying to find the words to bring back the man he loved instead of this cold, distant soldier.

If anything that answer only served to push Renji further away because the red-head scoffed, "You don't wanna even look at him do ya? Were ya drunk when ya made him? Did ya even know her name before ya were forced to marry her?" His words were toxic, and he thought he saw the stoic noble flinch a few times.

"It isn't like that." He said finally, trying desperately to keep the chill from his tone. By the look on Renji's face, he failed.

His fiery second-in-command stood then, crossed to the crib to place the babe in his bed, and brushed past Byakuya to leave the room. "You should bond with your son. He needs you at a time like this." With that, once again the red-head was gone without hearing the brunette's final sentence.

"Tamotsu is not my son directly." Byakuya made his way over to the crib, the baby was sleeping soundly in spite of the raging reiatsu that just left the room. He smiled slightly, drawing a delicate hand through baby-fine almost-white hairs. "But I love you like you are, Tamotsu. Though your parents are gone, you will want for nothing. I owe that to them, and to their love that made you."

Rukia had just stepped up to the nursery door when her brother made that promise, and she gasped lightly. "Nii-sama, is it true?"

He looked up and met her violet gaze. "Yes. Tamotsu is my cousin, as was his biological father. Kazuko loved him very much." He closed his eyes, since they were alone he allowed the emotions to show on his face. "It was because of that love that I allowed myself to be bound to her. I refused to allow her son to grow up a bastard, forced to live in poverty because his mother was unmarried to the man she loved at the time of his birth."

"You mean, Kuchiki Tamotsu? From my division? The teenager that was killed last year?" Rukia come up to the crib to stand next to her brother. "I knew he was our cousin, but he was-?" She trailed off, mimicking Byakuya's motion over the baby's head.

Byakuya nodded, stormy eyes watching the baby sleep, but not really seeing him. "Yes. That is why I agreed to marry Kazuko-san. The clan elders agreed that once he is old enough to be named heir I would be allowed to pursue whomever I wished to tie myself to, and in exchange I would be required to marry Kazuko-san before the babe was born as though I had sired him. I was unable to even tell you because of the terms of the contract Kazuko-san and I signed." He sighed deeply, the last year weighing on him more heavily than ever. Absently he reached up to the necklace he wore. "I fear my lover at the time did not understand everything correctly, and gave me no opportunity to explain it once the vows were said." He was unaware of the fact that Zabimaru's fang was outside of his clothing, or that he was stroking it with his thumb, as lost in thought as he was.

"Nii-sama…" Rukia gasped again, staring at the charm. "You mean that—Is that a piece of—?" He met her eyes, sadness swirling in the clouds of grey. She gathered her nerve, "Nii-sama, is that a piece of Renji's Zanpakutou?"

He closed his eyes, the pain of that first day after marrying Kazuko playing in his mind; of finding the piece of his own Zanpakutou sitting on his desk. Mentally he watched it fall from the confines of his stained, torn, bloodied scarf and disappear into thin air before ever touching the desk. He was brought back when a small hand rubbed the pad of its thumb across his cheek. He hadn't even noticed when the tear had escaped his resolute control, but he felt the coolness on his skin when his sister wiped it away.

That was all she needed to know. It filled in all of the gaps and blanks that had bugged both her and Kazuko since Renji had moved in. The thought that her new sister was gone hurt, more than she could describe, and knowing the full story only served to cement her bond with her adopted-nephew. She wiped the tear from her brother's face, having never seen him ever show as much emotion as he was now. With a slight hitch to her own voice, she called him from his thoughts, "Go to him."

He only nodded once, and was out the door. He didn't know why it took his sister to spur him into action, but that seemed to be the way of it. From the moment Kurosaki had defeated his Bankai, his sister had been guiding his actions. So, with renewed purpose he strode into Renji's room.

The shoji screen opened just as the blood welled up around the blade of the paring knife, which he had procured from the kitchen. As usual his crimson hair was down around his face, sticking in places where tears he didn't notice had cemented the strands. His eyes were rimmed in the same angry color as the inside of his left wrist. He glared up at the door, daring whoever was interrupting his private time to try and stop him. He needed more. It was too much, the pressure was back. It had ebbed, just slightly, hovering beneath the surface since the fight with the Hollow. Cutting something else had been almost as therapeutic as cutting himself, but then Byakuya's apathetic attitude towards his second dead wife—that had put him right back to where he was the first time he'd seen the bastard after getting back from the Living World.

Fine! The cold captain didn't have to give a damn about anyone but himself, but why the fuck did he have to play with Renji's heart in the process? What did that exchange under the sakura tree all those months ago even mean if the king of cold didn't love him! Why had he been so happy to give up a part of his Zanpakutou if all Renji was to him was a stray dog to pass the time? It didn't matter! All that mattered was getting the pressure out! And the only way to do that was to cut the flesh and let it bubble away.

Byakuya gasped and actually flash stepped across the room, by Renji's side in a blink of an eye. He snatched Renji's hand away from his wrist, putting pressure on the cut, ignoring the blood. "This is why you were in the Fourth? This is why you wrap your arms every day? Why Renji? Why?"

The red-head growled. "You wouldn't understand!" He tried to take his hands back, to finish the job. The pressure was building, he couldn't take it! He had to get it out! And Byakuya was getting in the way!

"Make me." The noble insisted, forcing himself between Renji's bent knees, bringing his face within inches of the seething red-head's mouth. "Help me understand."

"This is your fault! You cold-hearted bastard!" Renji screamed. His chest burned, his breath came in gasps, and he tried again to wrench himself away from the pale shackles of his ex-lover's grip. "I gave you my heart! I gave you my SOUL! And you—you monster!—You shacked up with—with HER!" The pressure was affecting his voice now, making it break and crack, making his breath hitch and his cheeks burned. Something was running down them. Acid? Blood? Maybe he'd been splashed by the Hollow and his eyes were oozing fluid. That would certainly account for the way his vision wasn't clear.

"Renji! She meant nothing to me!" Byakuya was still in his face, trying to reach through whatever had a grip on his dearest. The way the man was fighting he could tell was in desperation. All he received that time was a roaring cry, that he matched with the next words out of his mouth, "The baby isn't even mine!"

Renji froze, the pressure backed off and coldness settled in. "Wh-what?" His teeth were chattering now, and his body ached. He was sweating or something because everything from his hair down to his chest was wet. Something was dripping from his nose, and somehow he'd lost his knife.

"Renji, my koibito, I married her because I had to." Byakuya dropped his heart's wrists and gripped his face now that he had his attention. "The Elders made me marry her. I only agreed because they agreed to leave us alone." His eyes searched the crimson depths across from him. "I tried to tell you. You wouldn't listen. I warned you not to listen to the rumors. I told you that they were lies created by my family."

The red-head was too far gone to fully comprehend everything that was happening, but in Byakuya's rush to grab him gravity pulled the fang of metal away from the folds of the kosode the noble still wore from reporting to the Sotaicho that morning. Renji's eyes followed the swing of the metal that echoed with his soul.

His voice was hoarse and broken, "You're still wearing it."

"Always." The noble sat back on his heels, taking Renji's hands in his own. "No matter how far you go, you have always been and will always be next to my heart, Ren-koi."

"But I gave it back…" He seemed to in shock, as though the idea that Byakuya could still be in love with him, still be committed to him, still be wearing his Zanpakutou was so foreign that it simply wouldn't process.

"And I refuse to take it." The haughty nobility slid back onto the brunette's face and he literally looked down his nose at Renji. "I do not give my heart lightly, Abarai Renji. To have it flung back in my face for such a trivial reason as a misunderstanding is the third greatest insult you could give me, and I refuse to be insulted by you."

Renji frowned, "Third greatest? What're the first two?" His eyebrows scrunched together, and the confusion on his face made it a challenge for Byakuya to maintain his composure.

"The second greatest insult would be to refuse my insistence to give my heart back to you." He drew the glass box that contained the petal from Senbonzakura from within his shihakusho and offered it to the man across from and around him.

The red-head stared at it for a moment or two, "Then the note that was half-finished on your desk when I got here was fer—?"

"Yes, Ren-koi, you. It is why I insisted you be here to recover instead of simply having you stay at the barracks of either the Fourth or the Sixth." He allowed a small smile to tug on the corners of his mouth as he waited for Renji to take the necklace.

"So then what's the greatest insult I could give you?" He took the box, but didn't open it, preferring to stare at the petal inside. He was certain it would be something like his hair or his tattoos or his language, or something equally as trivial.

The delicate hand that had been holding the box, drew Renji's chin up, forcing their eyes to meet. "The greatest insult you can give me, Ren-koi," He used his other hand to turn over the slit left wrist so he could plant a kiss on the puckered, bloody skin, "is to harm yourself for any reason." He kissed along the brown line, then up the pale one connected to it, then to the one connected to that, and so on and so on, until he had kissed along every scar and scabbed line carved into the tanned skin of Renji's left forearm. "Promise me, koibito, that you will stop doing this?" The hand that had been on Renji's chin moved up to stroke his tear-stained cheek, the thumb running across his bottom lip.

"You—still want me? Even after all of this?" Brown eyes still rimmed in red swirled with confusion. "I was so stupid. How could you still want me? I'm nothing. A dog. The monkey trying to catch the moon. You said so yourself!"

"Renji! No! You have not been a stray dog to me for a very long time!" Storm-cloud grey searched the brown. "I thought we had moved past this? I said those things out of anger and fear. You know the affect you have on me. I lose control. Look at me! I am kneeling between your legs on the floor!"

Renji clutched the box containing the petal. "I don't think I'm worthy to wear your heart, Kuch-Tai-Byakuya." He stumbled over his lover's name, unused to using it for so long.

"Then it is a good thing that I decide who is worthy of my heart and who isn't, Ren-koi." The noble used both hands to draw the necklace from the box and leaned forward to place it around his lover's neck. Taking the opportunity he captured the warm lips he'd been missing so terribly and poured all of his longing and desire into his reiatsu, wrapping it around the red-head like a blanket.

Renji spoke against Byakuya's mouth. "I promise. I won't insult you anymore." Then he sealed it with a scorching second kiss, raising his own reiatsu to match his lover's.

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**A/N:** Not much to say here, but I wanted to tell everyone that I am aware that "-koi" is not an actual Japanese honorific. However, I couldn't come up with a suitable nickname for Bya to call Renji when they're alone as I simply could not see our stoic noble use "-chan" or "-kun" with ANYONE! So, what he says here when he says "Ren-koi" is actually a hyphenation of "Renji koibito" or "Renji watashi no koi" which (from what my sources say) roughly means "Renji my heart/love". Ja ne, minna!


	7. Chapter 7 LEMON!

**A/N: WARNING!** This chapter is ONE GIGANTIC LEMON! Please skip it until next week if things like this are offensive to you! . Though really, if you've stuck with me through the darker parts of this story, why are you upset with a little smut?

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Byakuya moaned into Renji's kiss. He found his long fingers digging into that wild, crimson mane, and the longer the two pressed their mouths together the higher his pent up desire climbed. Poking his tongue out between his lips to lap at the red-head's lower lip gained him instant access to the wet cavern he knew so well. Their tongues met, caressing and sliding along each other. No battle for dominance here, both knew exactly who was top and who was bottom the whole time.

He felt warm, strong hands run around his waist and up his back before that succulent mouth pulled away, "Y'know, 's not fair."

"Hmm?" Was all the more articulate the noble could be at the moment.

"Yer wearin' all those clothes an' I'm here in just a yukata." The Rukongai accent that sent shivers down Byakuya's spine always became more pronounced when Renji's voice was colored with lust.

"Mmm." He answered, capturing that mouth again, though he did disentangle a hand from the other's hair to untie the knots in his hakama-himo and kosode so that all Renji had to do was push the clothing away and he would be bare to the world. Of course, his world was Renji at the moment.

The red-head did just that, pulling both kosode and shitagi down to expose the noble's pale skin as he relinquished the mouth he adored to become reacquainted with Byakuya's jawline and earlobe. Then he latched on to the noble's alabaster neck, sucking and biting, making the man above him squirm and leaving a mark that would take a fair amount of kido to remove.

Taking both hands from Renji's crimson strands the brunette untied the sakura covered yukata that had always been his second's favorite house shirt. He traced the lines of ebony marking the other's skin, dipping his fingertips into the grooves and contours of a torso well defined from years of swinging a sword. He mimicked the attack on his neck by burying his nose in the red nest of hair just behind his lover's ear, leaving a mark of his own, more delicate but just as lasting.

Eventually both sets of hands found what they were searching for as delicate fingers ran the length of an already weeping manhood and strong, calloused palms massaged taut, sinewy buttocks. A thumb over the tip of the straining member brought the dip of fingertips into the crease near his entrance. Their mouths found each other again and both swallowed the other's moan as the proximity brought an equally straining shaft in contact with the one being gently stroked. One of the calloused hands left the cheek it had been caressing to wrap around both members, leaving the delicate fingers to dance once more over ebony-inked planes of muscle. Both sets of hips thrust into that one large hand, and kisses became impossible as both men lost their breath to pleasured gasps.

The husky voice of the red-head panted, "Ya got somethin'?"

The brunette nodded, forgoing his clutching at his lover's sides to fumble with the bedside table above them. Unable to get the proper angle to reach into the drawer, he pulled away with a growl. He turned, his side now facing his lover, and the other man took advantage of his compromised position to run his thick, strong fingers between those alabaster cheeks. As the digits' tips brushed his entrance again, the ebony noble jerked forward, his head whipping back around to stare with eyes wide in mock indignation.

"Impatient much?"

Renji just chuckled, fire burning in his cinnamon eyes. He grinned, his tongue running around the exposed teeth and eyes drinking in the sight displayed before him as he leaned back against the wall to wait for the object of Byakuya's search. A moment later he couldn't help but swat at the exposed rear end, a sharp snap of flesh on flesh echoing lightly in the room.

The noble huffed and sat back. "It's not here. I'll have to go to my chambers to get it."

His Rukongai lover wrapped him in strong, muscular arms, "Then let's change locations." He purred in Byakuya's ear, sending shivers down his spine.

Tossing ebony hair over his shoulder, lightly smacking Renji in the face, Byakuya let out a laugh that if anyone else heard would be cause for concern. The mere fact that he was laughing at all would make most of Seireitei think he'd lost his senses, but Renji just wrapped him tighter and buried his nose in those ebony strands. The two only let themselves go like this around each other. It was a private, very personal interaction. The only other person to have seen this side of Byakuya was the only other person he'd given his heart to, and she hadn't been strong enough to handle these sorts of games.

The red-head let his lover pull away to stand. The noble looked down with a warm smile on his face, the kind saved only for Renji. "C'mon." He gestured with his head towards the door, extending his graceful hand.

Taking it, the two crashed together as the other stood again, kissing passionately. It was as though the past year meant nothing, and it was with another silver-meets–cinnamon flash that the pair ran through the hallway connecting the two wings of the house. Crimson and ebony hair streamed behind them, and laughter more akin to boys a fraction their age echoed over their footsteps.

The door to Byakuya's private bedchamber was barely closed before Renji covered the noble's mouth with his own again, cupping exquisite bone structure to bury his fingers in the ebony framing it. Stubbing his finger on the porcelain tube of his lover's heirloom hair piece he growled against the delectable lips he devoured. Agile fingers removed the two pieces and tossed them, not caring if they broke at the moment as Renji's hands ran through his hair again.

They walked, still lip-locked until Byakuya's legs bumped into the large bed. The noble reached behind him to throw the blankets off and drew Renji down on top of him so they could grind their bodies together. The red-head growled again as their most sensitive areas rubbed together with delicious friction.

This time when a hand reached out to the bedside table it came back carrying a jar of water-based lubrication. Calloused fingers dipped into the slick substance and Byakuya inhaled sharply, his hips hiking when Renji circled his entrance for a third time. This time though, as soon as the chilly glycerin had warmed to the noble's body temperature, a thick pad pressed inside smooth and slow. Byakuya panted, unable to contain the small noises that escaped his mouth into Renji's when they met.

A year of celibacy made the normally tight passage even tighter. So the single digit was pulled in and out in a gentle rhythm for a good long while before Renji added his index finger alongside his middle. Gently scissoring the two, he curled the tips to brush just below where he knew his lover's prostate sat. It teased Byakuya to no end, the burn and pressure hinting at that blinding pleasure he knew would come once the red-head finally hit that inner button. In entirely too long a time, the noble finally felt his lover add his ring finger to the two already pumping and stretching his tunnel. It would take all four before Renji felt confident that he wouldn't tear his lover when he reclaimed what was his by right.

When Byakuya felt the pressure of that fourth finger there was nothing keeping him on the sheets but Renji's body hovering over him. His back arched as the tips of those fingers brushed his prostate, and an entirely uncontrolled moan ripped from between his lips, his vision sparking.

Renji grinned and added a few strokes to Byakuya's manhood between them as he pulled his fingers out and lined himself up with his lover's entrance. Silvery-eyes snapped open at the feeling of lubricated latex.

"Wh-when did you d-oOOoo that?" He couldn't stop the whine when the glans of his lover's cock pushed into his ass.

Renji chuckled, gliding slowly into the tight heat of his lover, "Y'didn't think I lost all my talents while I was gone did'ya?" Seating himself fully, he nipped at Byakuya's sensitive neck, just below the ear, waiting for the man below him to adjust to his sizable girth.

A hitch of the hips and both began a gentle rocking, unhurried rhythm. Every stroke of his shaft against his lover's prostate brought moans and whines tumbling from the delicate lips straight through his body to his groin. In turn this made their rhythm pick up.

"Mmm more, Renji." Byakuya murmured, sucking on the red-head's ear lobe.

"Mmm, gladly, Bya." Their pace picked up again, the slapping of flesh on flesh beginning to match their heated breaths. A sheen of sweat made the two of them seem to glow in the setting sun coming in from the cracks in the shoji screens separating them from the garden.

A few minutes later, Renji was leaning his forehead against Byakuya's, the noble's long legs draped over his elbows, his rough hands gripping the slim hips below him for leverage as he pounded into the sleeve of his lover's rear end. "So tight—Umph!"

"Ah, Ren—s-so close—gunna—"

"Y-yeah, baby, c-cum for me." He released a hip to stroke his lover's neglected shaft.

Byakuya arched up as his body spasmed around Renji, thick, hot seed pumping over the tanned fingers around his cock. "AH! Renji!" He breathed, his body milking the manhood buried in his deepest place.

"UH! Bya-AH-kuya!" Renji actually half-growled when his own release exploded into the protective covering between him and his lover.

Both men shook with the force of their combined orgasms, hair stuck to their bodies in sweaty strands, and breath refused to come to either in anything but gasping pants. Their foreheads met again, too breathless to kiss, and identical satiated smiles broke through their growing exhaustion. The purples of twilight drew out the contrast between them; ebony and crimson, ivory and copper, silver and cinnamon.

Renji gently pulled out of Byakuya, rolling to the side to cuddle against his lover. After a moment he reached down and removed the condom, letting it fall to the floor for the moment. He buried his nose in the junction of the other's neck and wrapped his arm tiredly around the flat planes of his lover's torso.

"Mmm. I missed this the most." He mumbled, eyes closed, drinking the scent of the noble post sex.

Byakuya took the red-head's hand and wove his fingers between those of his returned lover before drawing the injured wrist to his mouth again. "I think it is safe to say I have missed everything about you, Renji."

"Yeah. 'S'true." Sleep, true, uncomplicated, and peaceful, was beginning to claim the Rukongai native. "Love ya, Byakushi." He muttered.

"I love you too, Ren-koi." The noble sighed deeply, but content. "More than you will ever know."

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**A/N:** Okay! So, the next chapter marks the end of Part 1. Bya and Renji are together and there seems to be nothing standing in their way. Kekeke. Fear not, my readers! Part 2 will begin either the week after next or two weeks, depending on when I get it edited. My update schedule will stay the same. In the meantime, I need help coming up with the name for the series as a whole. (Yes, I said series, as in more than two parts!) So stay tuned, and drop me your ideas in the reviews-they feed my plot bunnies and make my muse purr! Ja ne, minna! =3


	8. Chapter 8

Time to face the music. He fulfilled his end of the deal. They would have to allow him to take Renji as his life-partner. It wasn't his fault the Hollow that invaded the Kuchiki grounds had torn into Kazuko before he could even release his Shikai, and Yamamoto-Sotaicho himself had agreed that no one else in the Soul Society could have responded more quickly to the threat. So, that meant that he was free, right? He was on top of the world, possibly all four worlds. He'd reconciled with Renji, and for the last two months the pair had not wasted a moment in remembering each other. He took advantage of the tradition of being sequestered in his rooms after the death of a spouse to steal the redhead away and have him all to himself. Yes, truly, nothing could bring him down this day.

Underneath his mask, Byakuya steeled his resolve before striding confidently into the attendance hall for his early morning meeting with the Kuchiki clan elders. He gave a very slight nod of his head in reverence to many of the council's advanced age as he took his place at the head of the chamber. "Good morning."

The council spokesman rose from his kowtow, "Good morning, Byakuya-dono. The Council trusts you are coping well with the loss of your second wife?"

"I am, as you are no doubt well aware, dealing with my grief as befitting a husband of my stature. The draperies and linens of the Kuchiki manor have laid in black and white since Lady Kazuko's tragic passing." All of the assembled members of council knew just as well as he did that while he was sorry for her loss, he held no personal grief over her death, but he played along happily.

"There has been some rumor, Byakuya-dono, that the man, Abarai Renji, once your Fukutaicho, is staying with you and your honorable sister at the manor. Is this true?" The spokesman kowtowed a second time at the end of his question.

Again, everyone in the room already knew the answer to this question, but the old men and women of the family seemed to have nothing more entertaining to do than to pry into his personal life. So, once again, he played along, "Yes, Spokesman, Abarai-fukutaicho was injured during his last mission to the Living World and has been taking his recovery at the manor. He is well on the way to mending but it will take several more weeks before the tendons and ligaments in his arm are sufficiently healed for him to return to his normal duties. I am afraid he will have to remain at the manor at this time, or were you more worried about my dear sister's innocence?"

The haughty spokesman merely smiled, causing a chill to run down the noble clan leader's spine, "It is not Rukia-sama's innocence this council is concerned with, Byakuya-dono. It is yours."

Several hours later found the council dismissed, and the household trying to adjust to something that had not been expected for several more years. Rukia sat in the nursery cradling her adopted nephew against her chest, though her thoughts were far away. On the table next to her were long, sleeve-like gloves made of the same fine almost white silk that matched her brother's wrist-length version. Being acknowledged as a member of the noble household had been a shock enough when the stuff representative of the council had approached her earlier, but to have been handed a set of Regent's Gloves was almost more than the diminutive Kuchiki could handle. She had immediately gone in search of her brother, only to find that he'd sequestered himself in his rooms. His personal attendant told her he'd left instruction that the only reason he could be disturbed was if something was wrong with Tamotsu. So, she found herself in the babe's nursery, drawn to the infant that was now her personal responsibility.

The elder had been clear on that. She was responsible for his upbringing, his education, and all other aspects of his life in preparation for ascending to the position of Head of the Clan once he was old enough. The former street rat was shell shocked. This never happened. The only time a regent was elected was if the current Head of Clan was dead and the heir was underage, but Byakuya was still alive. So, why? Because Kazuco had died? She wished she had someone to talk to, but for some reason she couldn't find her best friend either. Thoughts spinning in circles in her head, she suddenly gave a small gasp, her eyes going wide, and the hand that had been absently stroking the baby's head flying to her mouth.

'_This is your third strike, Byakuya-dono. This council warned you that any further indomitable acts would severely affect your position. Now that an heir has procured, and the proper paperwork has been filed regarding the child's care, this council is free to react to your subversion two years ago. The exchange of Zanpakutou is a serious agreement that should not be entered into lightly, and your choice of partner is something that this council will no longer tolerate. Turn in your kenseikan, Byakuya-dono. This council has determined that it is in the clan's best interest for you to step down as Head of Clan.'_

The words echoed in his ears, affecting him more than he had ever expected. Truthfully he didn't regret the actions of the council, but Renji had reacted badly. At this moment the redhead was still raving, throwing every curse the Living World and the Rukongai had to offer at the stodgy old men and women that made up the Kuchiki Council of Elders. He'd been coloring the air for the past fifteen minutes.

"I can't! I won't let you do it!" The tattooed man threw the framed picture of he and his lover against the wall. Said lover merely sat on the bed, allowing the destruction to go around him. The fiery Fukutaicho roared, slamming his hands on the bed. For once, because they were in the safety and privacy of their bedroom, the man was bare from the waist up, all the way down to his fingertips. This left the myriad of scars littering his forearms to catch the lamp light as well as the gleaming pink petal shaped blade around his neck. "I just can't sit back an' watch ya give up yer position fer me!"

"Renji, this isn't something I can choose to do. It's been done already." This was the third—fourth?—time Byakuya had attempted to explain how this was a good thing to his lover, but the stubborn—ahem—wouldn't listen.

The redhead fell to his knees next to the bed, taking his lover's beautiful hands into his own, "But, Bya, what happens now? I mean, will you lose the Sixth? Do you have to move? And Tami? Who's gonna look after him? Isn't he gonna at least get to know you? I mean, disregard us for a minute and think!"

"Disregard us? Bakamono, this whole thing is about us!" The noble's patience was wearing thin. "Ren-koi, I love you. I have always loved you. Going all the way back to the first day I ever met you. I gave you a piece of my Zanpakutou. Twice! Does that not mean anything to you?"

"Of course it does!" Their eyes were locked, hands gripping each other frantically.

"Then why do you not believe me when I tell you that none of those things matter if I cannot have them with you? Why do you continue to think so little of yourself!" Storm clouds raged in that gaze and both knew they were nearing the edge of a cliff; a precipice from which they would either fly or fall together.

"Because of what I am! Byakuya, I'm a street rat! I'm a sneak thief, and a con artist! I ripped people off! I sold my body for coin! When I got promoted all I did was waste my money on alcohol and prostitutes! I'm no good for you!" He couldn't stop his words, and as they rang out a familiar burn echoed in his chest.

"That's not your decision!" Ebony was shouting now, recognizing the fires burning in cinnamon. "I decide who is worth my time! I am master of my personal life!"

"Except when _they_ hold it over your head!"

"You imbecile! I WANTED THIS! STOP BEING SO CRASS!"

Renji rocked back onto his heels, blinking. He couldn't breathe. The floor disappeared from under his feet. His hands trembled, shaking so much that he lost his grip. He couldn't hear. Byakuya's mouth was moving, but he couldn't hear any words. There was a rushing sound blocking out all others. He knew this sound. There was a weight against his chest, keeping his heart from beating steadily. The burn radiated from this place of pressure, shooting through his veins like liquid fire. His skin tingled, and beneath the surface began the blinding, all-consuming need to release the evil in his body.

He said something, but he couldn't hear it.

The next thing he knew he was walking out of the room. Then he was running, bare feet carrying him down the porch to the garden path that would take him through the short cut out of the manor's grounds. He thought it might be raining, his eyes burning with the force of the wind against his wet face. That was the last thought he had as the itching, pressing, tingling sensation in his veins took over his mind. One thing called to him—the cool, releasing metal of the ceremonial kunai he knew still hung on the wall of his apartment in the Sixth.

The room was dark, but that was ok. He didn't need lights to find what he was looking for in the musty room. It hadn't been aired since that first night after his return from the Living World. As though sent from above a shaft of light, formed by a hole in the curtain, glinted off the edge of his target. He dove on it as though it was a life preserver and he was drowning.

The single purpose of relieving that unrelenting pressure the only thing in his mind as he dug the still dirty point into his flesh. He screamed, the sound of his own voice breaking through the fog as the crimson fluid that had been forcing his actions ran down his arm. He knew he was crying now, the tears of relief at the delicious, focusing pain rocketing up his arm.

Yes, this was what he needed. Living in that cushy mansion where every whim was seen to in a matter of seconds was like living in Wonderland; all bright colors and animated caricatures of real life. But eventually he had to come back to reality. There were no cartoons here to sing him silly songs and distract him from the truth of his station. He was a dog; a street rat. He didn't deserve to capture the moon.

Byakuya was only moments behind his lover. He knew immediately he'd said the wrong thing. Renji had shattered in front of him. He'd watched as the burn consumed him, emptying his eyes of all awareness. He tried calling out to the redhead, tried to explain, but it had fallen on deaf ears.

"I gotta go." Was all he said, and then he was gone.

A few minutes' hesitation was all the noble took before following his lover out the door. He saw him leave the garden into the alley between the Sixth and the manor, and knew immediately where he was going. Backtracking Byakuya slammed open the nursery door where Rukia was still trying to comprehend her change in status.

"Call the Fourth! Renji's going to try to kill himself again."

He knew he looked wild, his hair completely undone, dressed in nothing more than a sleeping yukata, fear evident in the way his body shook, but none of that mattered as he Flash Stepped out of the house, chasing after his tormented lover.

The door that had fallen shut after the redhead's violent entrance was opened forcefully, the afternoon sunlight flooding the small room, framing the kneeling figure clutching the ornamental knife in a shaking grasp. His eyes were wild, his hair half up-half wild, several long gashes carved into the forearm of his right arm. The figure in the doorway was like an angel, glowing from the back lighting of the daylight. His ebony hair blowing around him with the swell of his reiatsu.

It shattered the grip Renji's obsession had on his mind. His eyes widened as they met silver, and he began crying a new. "H-help me, Bya! I-I can't-I can't stop."

* * *

**A/N: **Well, that's it for Part 1. Keep your socks on and your eyes peeled for Part 2: Somebody That I Used To Know. I will be posting it either next week or the week after. ^_^ I hope you've all enjoyed this one. Ja ne, minna!


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